


Fire In Our Eyes

by EssytheWolf



Category: Enderal (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fictober, Fictober 2019, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Language, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 17,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssytheWolf/pseuds/EssytheWolf
Summary: A collection of prompts and moments following my Prophetess and the Main Cast from Enderal: Forgotten Stories.For Fictober 2019.





	1. Tonic

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts will be in the top notes.
> 
> Day 1: "It will be fun, trust me."

It was supposed to be a social visit. Something Jespar could say he did then sweep under the rug as an obligation to see the Prophetess. Of course, he told himself that the last two times he visited her. The little house by the smelter was becoming more of a favorite spot than he cared to admit.

_It doesn’t hurt to be friends, right?_

What he didn’t expect was said Prophetess to greet him with a large smile, messy hands and a petition for help. Jespar was dragged in and, being the gentleman, agreed to help with whatever project left those smudges on her nose.

“It’s good you’re here actually,” she said cheerfully, “I could use a second pair of hands for this project.”

“Care to fill me in on what project that is, fair lady?”

They went upstairs into a small loft and the smell of earth, flowers and pine greeted his nose. The alchemy still on the far corner was abuzz in activity and cluttered with all manner of plants and parts.

“You’ll see, just follow my lead.”

The Prophetess put him at a table next to the still. She grabbed a large bunch of random plants and set them before him along with a knife. He raised an eyebrow at her but she already moved on to fill a few glasses and cups with, what he assumed, water.

“Uh…”

“It will be fun, trust me,” she grinned up at him.

_Cut the roots and stems. Pluck the petals. Keep them separate. Grind one in the pestle. Let the other simmer in a boiling pot._

The amount of instruction clogged Jespar’s train of thought and he wondered inwardly how the Prophetess managed to keep such a fast pace. Really, he was only in charge of cutting and “de-flowering” the ingredients. But listening to her talk and hum as she worked was both intriguing and making his head spin. To help pass the time, she asked about some of his work and in turn he asked about her life in Ostian. It was pleasant and Jespar felt comfortable enough to describe his…lighter work. In turn, he could tell she steered away from the more…darker subjects that plagued the fanatical southern Nehrim city. And he was grateful for that.

He bumped her arm as he finished cutting.

“This isn’t something that will blow up, is it?”

She paused for a second, then shook her head.

“No, it won’t. Not like last time.”

_Last time?_

“Nothing dangerous?” He pressed, but couldn’t suppress the tease in his tone. Of course, it just seemed like something that would happen with her. Near death, sudden magic and a religious holy order. A concoction gone wrong _almost_ seemed normal. “No poisons I should worry about?”

This made her eye him from her side of the still. An amused gleam passed over her yellow eyes and she shook her head again.

“Nothing dangerous; scout’s honor.”

“Mhm…”

Jespar passed his cut plants to her. She took them with a hum of approval. Their hands brushed and the contact made her jump.

“Are you alright?”

She hastily turned away from him and busied herself again at the still. Instead of answering, she looked over his work again.

“These are passable. We are just making a tonic.”

“Just passable? My knife skills aren’t that bad.”

That got a small smile. She shooed him out of her space and he took the time to step outside to light his pipe. The reaction confused him. Their stance on the watchtower regarding anything serious had been made clear.

_It doesn’t hurt to be friends._

Maybe he was reading too much into it…

The smoke tasted a little funny, perhaps some of what he was cutting bled into the tobacco when he put it in the bowl, but eventually he pushed her sudden shift of behavior out of his mind. A few minutes later, the Prophetess emerged and pushed a vial into his free hand.

“What’s this?”

“As I said, a tonic,” she didn’t look at him, “for you.”

“I swear my _knife skills_ aren’t that bad…”

Her face turned a bright shade of crimson and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s to keep your stamina up and-“, she halted mid-sentence and turned away from him. “It’s just to help you!”

He stifled his laugh, “I know, I know, I’m sorry. You make it too easy.”

She turned back and eyed him critically. Again, a small smile formed on her lips and she relaxed a little.

He held up the tonic and tucked it into one of his pouches. He didn’t want to think too much into it. It would be useful later, he was sure, and it was a nice gesture. And that’s all it was.

“Thank you and don’t worry…I’ll put it to good use.”


	2. Temple Tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: "Just follow me. I know the area."

“I can show you around the temple, if you want.”

Lea felt like the victim of a beating. Not only did her head throb but her limbs and chest ached beyond the point of sore. Still. She found she liked Calia Sakaresh and felt it would be rude to deny the offer.

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

The other woman smiled, stretching the swirling mark on her cheek. Was it a tattoo? Maybe she should ask later…

She instructed Lea to grab her things from a nearby chest and follow. She did and they descended a set of stairs into what looked like a church. Rows of pews dotted both sides of the room. Beside them, a large statue of a man pointed towards the kneeling Keepers and acolytes in their pews. Vaulted walls of stone and stained glass lined each side, briefly illuminated by the occasional strike of lightning. Lea counted the seconds until a boom resounded in the distance. Twenty seconds. Pretty far, perhaps it was moving away?

Calia took Lea’s arm and whispered, “This is the Sanctum, a place of player and reflection. It’s also where the Grandmaster will anoint us as Keepers.”

Lea schooled her face to remain neutral. Right, the whole reason she woke up feeling the way she did. The “test” that she had to partake in led her into a vivid nightmare. A test of her spirit and resolve. And then, meeting _them_. All because her visions marked her as “special”. Maybe to a religious order that really was something. She shuddered. Calia passed her a wary look but kept going. They rounded a corner and down some more stairs until they were beneath the Sanctum. Shelves lined with herbs, crystals and books marked a path to a door leading outside.

The storm was indeed moving away from them. The stone at their feet still wet from the rain and the air held a clean, pure smell. Lea took several deep breaths, letting it fill her up. She continued to count the space between each lightning strikes and thunder. Twenty. Twenty two. Twenty five. Thirty. She didn’t realize she stopped walking until Calia gave her arm a gentle tug.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm? Right, sorry.”

“It’s alright, just follow me. I know the area so it won’t take too much longer.”

Calia smiled knowingly and continued her tour. The Emporium where the meetings were held. The Eye of the Gods, where Lea had her talk with Grandmaster Arantheal before the trial. The Scoula and bathhouse, a smithy and an alchemy shop. Finally they stopped on the far side of the temple from where their journey began.

“And this is the Chronicum. All of our knowledge and artifacts are stored here. You will probably see more of this place as their…our mission continues.”

Lea hoped not to get too familiar. Calia let go and turned to her.

“I think that covers all of it.”

“I appreciate it.” Lea even felt some of the aches subsiding.

Calia smiled then sighed, “You better go back and speak with the Grandmaster. I will make preparations in the meantime.” She tilted her head, as if lost in thought, “It’s still kind of hard to believe…” She shook her head and waved, “It doesn’t matter, I will see you soon. Walk Blessed, Sister.”

Lea watched, perplexed but otherwise did as she was told. These were all supposed to be steps towards a greater good. That’s what the Grandmaster said. Yet, going back, she had her reservations. But then…who were _they_? The ones that taunted her in her dream that took the guises of people she knew and met. But something in her gut told her to keep moving forward. Go along with it.

_You will burn._

She looked over her shoulder, Calia was already gone and out of sight. Maybe, there would at least be one friendly face here.


	3. Ocean Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: "Now. Now you listen."

Jespar awoke to the sound of ocean waves. He groaned and turned away from the offending noise, only to realize he had no blanket or pillow to try and muffle the sound. In fact, he was still dressed in his gambeson and the bed he lay on creaked ominously under his weight. He carefully sat up and stood on the rotten floorboards.

The “house” he was in was missing most of its roof and much of the walls. Only the beams remained, creating a skeletal shell of shelter. He licked his lips, tasted salt and checked his pockets for his water skin. He drank deeply then checked for his weapons. They lay in a neat spread on a rickety table. Not a piece was missing and it sparked the next thought.

_Where was she?_

Clearly, she laid this out for him and took him to safety. Safety? He attached his knives to his belt and exited the house through the ruined entry way. It opened to a foggy beach and a sea-eaten pier with a lone figure at its edge. He looked around. Much of the fog covered the view up the cliffside that led to the beach. In fact, he could barely see past the ruined house. 

He approached the lone figure, who sat hunched over, hair shifting and floating from the sea breeze. She didn’t acknowledge him and he took a seat beside her. They sat in silence; he breathed deep the salty air and chanced a glance at the Prophetess.

His chest tightened. It was a look all too familiar. Eyes hollow and staring into nothing. The look of someone who had seen so much and had given up. He swallowed thickly, almost too afraid to speak.

“How…how long was I out?”

“A few hours. I think. Hard to tell with all this fog.” Her voice sounded wrong. Too upbeat for such a dead face.

“What happened?”

More silence. Her head dipped a little lower.

“I killed them.”

“All of them?”

Undead above them, raiders below. They had been stuck on the stairs leading away from Thalgard to—

“All of them?” He asked again.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her transform before. But why tell him not to look? He looked at his hands. Not a drop of blood on them. He touched his face. Not sticky but coarse from his own beard and the salty spray.

“What about-“

She shoved something small into his hands. It was a cube no bigger than his palm and with intricate markings. The Pyrean device they were sent to retrieve for the Starling Airship.

“You…left me alone to get this?”

“You were fine.”

“What if there were more? I could have been dead when you came back.” It was irrational to press the issue. Their mission was technically a success. Maybe it was the sense of purpose he had suddenly deemed himself worthy to pursue. It would have been too soon if he died to see any of it done. To even make up an inkling of what he_ had_ done.

She looked ashamed and turned away from him.

“I…”

“What? You what?” He raised his voice and turned to her with an expectant answer. The cube cut into his palm as he squeezed it. Yes, this was irrational. But he couldn’t stop. He laughed, a desperate, despairing sound even in his own ears.

“I guess that’s my fucking luck isn’t? The great Prophetess there to save the day!”

And he’d been useless. Again.

“Stop it…” He almost didn’t hear her.

“I dragged you into this, you know.” He was the one that found her on the Suncoast. He thought, maybe this one I could help. Talk about taking the credit to help lead someone to “greatness”.

She looked back at him, yellow eyes wide and moist with tears.

“You didn’t-“

“I didn’t know?” He felt like a madman. Grinning at her, his breath coming in fits. Warmth spread down his palm, sticky and dripping into his lap.

_I told you I’m not one of the good guys._

_But you desperately want to be._

He raked his fingers through his hair with his free hand. By the name of the sun, he should have known better. He wanted to scream. It bubbled in his throat. It was fucking irrational.

She reached for him; took his shoulders and shook them.

“Stop it! By the Gods stop!”

And he did. Like a switch flipping in his brain, he stopped. Jespar noticed the tears then, both in his eyes and in hers. Pain flared in his palm and he looked down at the cube now splotched in his blood.

“Now you listen…” She leaned forward, her forehead butting against his chest. “It’s going to be okay.”

He put an arm around her. She shook and sobbed against him. Repeated it like a mantra. It drowned on her choking sobs and under the ocean tide lapping at their feet.


	4. The Beast Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: "I know you didn't ask for this."

Castle Dal’Galar left it’s mark on both women. There was awe and fear in what Calia became. The carnage left behind; the shadows that lingered like oil on the skin. Lea wanted to check with her. Maybe help her make peace with what happened. The other, wasn’t thrilled and simply stared back with fear and reproach.

“I know you didn’t ask for this,” said Lea. 

“And you did?”

The question caught her off-guard.

“W-what?”

Like a predator honing on its prey that tripped over a branch, Calia zeroed in on her hesitation.

“I don’t understand why you can even do that!”

Then it clicked.

“To be stronger,” the Prophetess replied automatically.

Calia glared down at her. No longer pitying herself, she pinned a sudden fury down at the smaller woman.

“And it’s okay until you massacre an innocent!” Her voice shook, fists clenched at her sides.

“I wouldn’t-“

“How would you know?”

Lea just stared at her; voice dead in her throat. 

_You never thought about it._

_No. You avoided it._

“How would you know?!” Calia repeated. She stepped closer until she was chest to chest with her. Brown eyes ablaze in molten fire. And Lea could see deep down in the depths, a writhing shadow.

The truth was: she didn’t. But the Prophetess wanted to believe that she could control her own actions. That if she took precautions and took every ounce of control, she could manage. But so did Calia. If anything, she worked harder and longer than Lea could ever lay claim on. The difference, was the choice. Lea always had one. Calia did not.

When she didn’t answer, Calia took a step back, “That’s what I thought,” she spat. She turned around and took a seat on a bench. She put her face in her hands. “You just… you really don’t know.”

Lea kneeled down in front of her but didn’t reach to touch her.

“I do. I understand how you feel-“

“You mean the pleasure you get out of killing.”

“That’s not-“, that’s not entirely true. There was freedom in it too. But what was the point when so much blood was on your hands? When you enjoyed the feeling of snuffing out a life even in self-defense?

“Why, Sa’ira?”

“To be stronger,” Lea said again. Though even that was weak.

“Is that the lie you keep telling yourself? That you keep telling me?”

“It’s not a lie.” She reached for Calia’s shoulder. The other woman didn’t pull away.

“Maybe I should just…let it take over.” It was barely a whisper but the thought sent a chill down Lea’s spine. “Maybe I should just leave.”

“Please don’t go…”

Calia shook her head then looked up. Tears streaked down her cheeks. 

_No. You didn’t want to think about. You can’t avoid it. And now, you can’t stop._

“…you’re doing a lot of good here. Please don’t go.”


	5. A Sweet Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: "I might just kiss you."

A knock on her bedroom door broke Lea’s attempt at sleep. She mumbled that the door was open and saw Jespar peak into the room.

“I have something for you. Can I come in?”

He was ushered in with a half wave. She stretched on her bed, arms and legs spread to take up as much of the blankets as she could. Jespar found a seat that wasn’t taken and gently rubbed the leg closest to him. Then, he held a small package above her head to get her attention. Patiently, he used it to coax her into a sitting position. She whined a little and tried to grab it halfheartedly; exhaustion plain on her face and body.

When he had her up and eyeing him expectantly, he began to unwrap it.

“But first, I need you to close your eyes.”

Her brows rose in question.

“Just close ‘em,” he chided gently.

Lea wasn’t sure what game he was playing at but she was too tired to protest. Besides, closing her eyes was easy. She just hoped she didn’t fall asleep in the process. The sound of paper and cloth rustled noisily, probably on purpose, so she remained still and upright until he was done with whatever the surprise was. More rustling from the blankets and his warmth suddenly close enough to garner goosebumps on her arms.

“Okay, now open your mouth.”

Something must have shown on her face because he laughed. His bravado quite close to her ear.

“It will be alright I pro…hm, just trust me, okay?”

She hummed in understanding and opened her mouth. Still, she hoped it wasn’t some lewd joke. Maybe not. Something sweet and blocky was placed on her tongue. She tried to chew it and met resistance as it broke and crumbled in her mouth.

Something between a moan and squeal escaped her throat. It was sweet, milky, just a tad bitter, and mixed with peanuts. Or some kind of nut. She wasn’t sure and she didn’t really care as a strange euphoria took over her senses. The more she chewed, the more it broke-no _melted_ in her mouth. Gods, this was bliss. This…this, what was this?

As if reading her mind, Jespar spoke, “It’s called chocolate.”

He didn’t sound so close now. In fact…She opened her eyes and saw that he had lain back, keeping his head propped with a hand as he watched her reaction with an amused smile. The chocolate was half unwrapped and partially broken. It was a dark brown block, plain as day. Lea reached for it and Jespar let her have it with no fuss. She broke another piece off and popped it into her mouth; making another moan as she ate.

“Good?”

She rolled onto her back and nodded. The exhaustion had momentarily left her and she practically wriggled in delight at the treat.

“Gods, I might just kiss you. This is _so good_.”

Lost in her excitement, she didn’t see Jespar leaning towards her. He pressed his palm against her cheek to turn her to him.

“Wha-“

He kissed her, held it there and let it linger. His lips were slightly chapped but warm and eager. She kissed back, tasting both him and the chocolate that sent chills down her body. He hummed and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her close.

This…this was starting to become more than a kiss. He pulled her on top of him despite that she was holding fast the chocolate in her hands. She broke the kiss and saw his lopsided grin and hooded eyes.

“Now that I have your attention–”

“Thank you.” She bumped her forehead against his.

It took him slightly off-guard but he returned the gentle bump and stroked her cheek, “You’re welcome, fair lady.”


	6. Chills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: "Yes, I'm aware. Your point?"

Castle Bleakstar definitely lived up to the ‘bleak’ in its name. Drab stone walls, moldy tapestries and cracked statues littered the halls. And yet, it also showed signs of life. Fresh books in the library, discarded robes in the dormitories, crumbs left on plates. It was as if everyone up and left, leaving all their possessions for some great journey.

_But why?_

The only beings left behind in the castle of darkness were Apparitions. Powerful ones. One in ghostly purple but bore shadow steel armor and weapons. The very same left behind at Dal’Mercer Manor. It was becoming a very bad inconvenience as Esme and Lea dodged and weaved through the narrow corridors to avoid the charges.

Esme was no fighter, but she was quick; enough to distract, enough to deflect with her short sword. A mix of desperation and determination that had way too many near misses for Lea’s comfort. Unfortunately for Lea, it made fighting that much harder. She didn’t like transforming in close quarters. She was too bulky as a wolf; too clumsy to be bumping around on hard walls. Her bow was of little use as well with tight corners and sloped halls. Not until the Apparitions were right on top of her. Away from Esme so she wouldn’t get hit.

It became one of the few instances Lea needed to tap into magic. The unfamiliar chill of ice coated her hands and arms as she sent wave after wave to slow and eventually pin their attackers. Enough to deliver the final blow with an arrow to the face and send them spiraling into smoke and dust. The aftermath left her feeling insufferably cold to the core and the fever spiking on the opposite side of the spectrum.

Esme, seemingly unaware of her condition, pressed forward after the Apparitions fell.

“Come on! There has to be something here!”

“Esme-Gods, Esme wait!”

Lea followed. Relentless, shivering and gripping her bow to still her shaking hands.

They came upon a small room. The floors were grated with a small opening at the floor’s center. A bucket lay haphazardly nearby as if forgotten by its recent inhabitants. But the smell hit them like a rancid wave of meat and decay.

“Eugh…that smell…” Esme covered her mouth and nose.

Nausea followed as Lea’s vision lightened and clouded. The familiar sluggish feeling fell over her mind as Esme slowed to a halt and two ghostly figures appeared beside them.

_“A Lost One must have fallen into the well. We can’t use it…”_ One of them said.

There was silence as the two robe-clad figures looked at each other.

_“Do we have enough supplies to last? What if the Seventh never comes?”_

_“Trust in _her_ plan. It will be enough.”_

The vision faded. Esme resumed looking around at normal speed. The fever throbbed painfully. Lea dug into one of her pockets for Ambrosia, downed it, then choked as Esme moved on yet again.

“Esme! Gods damn-“ She leapt to grab the other woman.

“What?!”

Finally, Esme took in her appearance: covered in sweat, shivering, breath coming in shallow fits and coughs.

“Stars, I-I’m sorry-”

“Esme they aren’t here.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Your point?” Esme pulled herself away but didn’t walk off. Her eyes avoided Lea’s stare. The Aeterna tugged on her braids, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“We can’t stay here too much longer.” _Not while I’m about to collapse while you run off._

“I know! Just…there has to be something right? A map? Some clue to where they went next-“

“It will be easier to find if you don’t run ahead of me,” Lea kept her voice low, tried to keep it from shaking. Gods she was so tired. She couldn’t lose another one. Not now.

“I…” Esme hung her head in defeat. “You’re right. I’m sorry…”

Lea attempted to smile and instead pulled a grimace. “We’ll find something.”

“Yeah…You’re right.”

Lea stalked forward. Forcing one foot in front of the other. Trying not to let the disappointment simmer in her chest. Trying to focus instead on the other woman looking downcast behind her. The shaking didn’t stop. The walls oppressed them from all sides and her arms itched.

“I’m sorry…” Esme mumbled behind her.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lea said, the familiar line slipping from her tongue before she could think. “It’s going to be alright. Just stay close to me.”


	7. A Recommendation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: "No, and that's final!"

“Come on old man, can’t you loosen up for one night?”

Lishari Peghast had nothing but respect for her older colleague. But that didn’t opt him out of her teasing. She even went as far as pouting and putting her hands on her wide hips in a “really?” gesture. She wanted to originally nab Yuslan for tonight’s round but he was nowhere to be seen. Constantine Firespark shook his head, his grey, bushy beard swaying in time with his answer.

He pointed a gnarled finger at her, “You do what you please. But if you really insist, just bring me something back. And not that weak swill the god-lambs drink!”

Lishari laughed and prodded his beard, earning a smack to her fingers.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to annoy the locals?”

“And have the Keepers scold us for all their drivel? I’m too old to play that game Lushi.”

“You’re just mad about the mercenary, aren’t you?”

Firespark’s face hardened and he squinted at her, “Joseph is as typical as they come. The fact that you recommended him, is the only reason I let him on to our mission. Screw the fact that he is a local. And what does he do?”

“Well-“

“He brings this-this _girl_ into the Temple with him. And I gave him _specific_ instructions to be discreet. But did he do that? Oh no!”

“But you sent that _girl _to me to treat her fever. She’s from Nehrim like us, you know. And it’s nice to have a woman here for a fucking change.”

Firespark sighed. For once, he looked every bit the old man that he was. Bald head wrinkled and splotched with age spots. His robe looked a little bigger since when they first came to Enderal with Tealor Aranthael. Lishari softened, just a little, as she pat the old man on the arm.

“Yes yes, I know. And if your theory is right, then she will have a bigger part to play. Whether she wants to or not.”

“Well, let’s hope to kick ass and hope it is right, yeah?”

Firespark harrumphed and stood a little straighter.

“Besides…” He stroked his beard in thought, “I would rather have that drunkard here than trusting any more work to these buffoons.”

“So…you’ll keep my recommendation?” She grinned at him, trying hard not to be too smug to her elder.

“Fine, fine. I will convince the great Grandmaster to keep Jaspur on for our mission.” He eyed Lishari critically who simply battered her lashes at him in feigned innocence. “Does that satisfy you?”

“It satisfies one thing.” She turned to leave but asked again, “Are you sure—“

“No, and that’s final!


	8. Train Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: "Can you stay?"

At first, Jespar thought the train was crashing. He couldn’t tell if the bumps, jolts, and lurches were normal or signs of impending death. The second, was the screaming. Not his. Hers. He attempted to crawl out of bed and instead fell hard on the floor. A colorful spring of curses marked his fall and he staggered to his feet.

“Prophetess—Lea—shit—hey!” The train lurched again and he fell on the writhing form of the Prophetess.

She screamed again and sat up, knocking him back onto the floor. Her eyes wild and body shaking violently.

“What-who-ah!” She looked around breathing hard until it fell on Jespar.

He looked up at her, face screwed in pain. The panic that was there originally turned to annoyance. And worry.

“Rough dream?” He asked, not hiding his sarcasm.

She calmed down enough to look sheepish. She offered a hand and helped him back on his feet and on the edge of her bed. They sat in silence. The rustling of the train continued on with no change. Maybe no crash in oblivion would happen. At least not right now.

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“It’s fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck. The constant jostle of the train had him bump sides with her. She was warm but slicked with sweat and shakes. He saw her breathing in controlled counts. Ten in and ten out. He took the moment to realize how surreal the whole situation was. Firespark dead. A running, Pyrean mechanism that in no way should even be operational. It was up to chance if they ended up where the Nehrimese army was.

_Blazes, how did I get into this?_

“Yeah…rough dream…” Lea muttered next to him.

“You could have woken the dead in Myar Aranath with that screaming,” he meant it as a jest but it didn’t soothe her.

She brought her knees to her chest and hugged her legs. “Sorry,” she mumbled again, this time her brows furrowed and she looked at the floor of their compartment.

“Hey.” He put a hand on her shoulder. The train jostled them again and they bumped sides. This time she felt coiled and tense.

Unsure of what to say, he gently pat her shoulder and stood up.

“Wait.”

Jespar turned back and felt his stomach drop. Like a split mirror, she looked fragmented, lost and just barely holding herself together. It made his skin crawl and yet a clench on his stomach worried for her.

“Can you stay?”

He stared at her, not quite sure if he should or…or go into the next compartment on his own.

“Please?”

“Well,” he began, sitting back down beside her, “how can I say no to our Prophetess?”

He smiled. It felt genuine. Even if he couldn’t quite convince himself completely of that right now. But it did its job and she leaned against him. They both leaned back against the wall, arm to arm, with her head on his shoulder. Eventually, her breaths deepened and the lull of the train put her to sleep.

_Don’t fall into this trap again._

Damn hard not too when you can’t seem to get away from her and this whole goddamn mess.

_Your fault, remember?_

He stifled a groan and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Her warmth and the swaying eventually put him into an uneasy slumber.


	9. Lycanthropy: It's the Entropist's Alchemy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: "There's a certain taste to it."

Constantine Firespark stared down at the Prophetess with that bulging, critical eye of his. Lea mentioned offhand how potions tasted; ranging from the healing to stamina and then to chymica. The mention of wolf blood enhancements had the old mage stop in his tracks. A living pyrean temple seemed the worst place to do this but Lea cursed herself for even mentioning it.

“So I take it you also make wolf’s blood?” Firespark asked.

Jespar trailed behind them but his head perked at the sudden shift in tone.

Lea nodded. This caused a ‘harrumph’ from the old man. He turned and continued down a snow covered passage.

“Of all the things you wanted to learn, you choose to become a mangy beast?”

“It called to me.” The answer sounded lame. But out of all the “Memories” she found in the floating island. That one felt right. Being this “prophetess” had its perks. She could learn abilities faster; read something out of a training manual and be adept after a handful of tries. It also applied for alchemy. Lea had a natural affinity for it before coming to Enderal. But there was…a greater freedom and more liberties she could take. Learning about lycanthropy and wolf’s blood potions oddly reminded her of the stories her mother would tell. Wildshapers, shamans, animal lore to the point of fantastical. But now she could live it and learn and grow and _be strong._

“Being a lycanthrope—it’s like the entropy of alchemy.”

“Would you rather have it like the fables tell it?” She shot back. Momentarily shocked at her own bite. “That people are cursed for their rage and possessed by a wolven spirit to channel it? ‘And on every moon’s turn, man becomes a beast to rampage against the wicked and those who wronged him.’”

“They are far and few between. I hear there is even a tribe deep in the Steppes of Arazeal that use it for rituals. The pack mentality! Or just turning feral and killing everything in their territory.” Firespark bit back. He stopped and turned to her again.

“Well I guess it fits that I’m part Arazalean isn’t it? That of the savage lands?” A strange swell of pride and protectiveness overcame her. It was her body anyway that she experimented on. Not anyone else’s. Not like the entropists or phasmalists or even other arcanists!

“Lina, do you even understand what you are doing?” The old mage sounded exasperated. Like scolding a young child.

She bristled, “Yes! I’ve taken precautions!”

Sensing the tension, Jespar cut in, “So what does a wolf blood potion taste like?”

She gave him a long look, as if determining if he was serious or also mocking her. His expression remained neutral. Inquisitive even. If there was any discomfort of the subject, he did not show it.

Finally Lea answered, “Like mud.” She remembered her first taste in the pirate cave. It always seemed to linger with each new batch.

He raised an eyebrow at her. She elaborated, hackles raised again.

“It’s earthy. Flowery at times. Bitter other times. There are lots of combinations, really. Helps stave off the…side effects.”

“I see,” he smiled at her. It was empty and his eyes were guarded. Even if it was to appease her, it at least made Firespark give up his chase on it.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Well, whatever. If you want to discuss the morality of it, you’re better off talking to Yamlin anyway. He’s the blasted entropist. Perhaps you two will get along better.”

He turned around again and stormed ahead. Snow or icy slopes be damned in the forsaken temple. Jespar gave her another look, eyes glimmering for a moment in amusement and inquiry. She returned it with her head raised and eyes steely.

Laugh all they want. It was _hers_ to deal with. It was _hers_ to use. _Hers _to be strong.


	10. Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: "Listen, I can't explain it. You'll have to trust me."

With each step, Lea knew more and less at the same time.

She’d had little kinship with Yuslan Sha’Rim. In fact, she tried to speak to him at Constantine’s request about her…unique abilities. He seemed mildly impressed then shrugged it off. Cordial but distant. So it surprised her when the Entropist approached her for help after Ark’s siege.

_“A Planeswalker?”_

_“A device capable of jumping to another reality for a short period of time. Have you ever heard of Magister Dal’Marak?”_

_“The…one who blew up Thalgard?”_

_“The very same. Aside from trying to make a second city, he worked on other experiments, the Planeswalker included.”_

Why now?

He’d only given her bits and pieces since agreeing to help him; only saying that it was a personal mission and that he wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. For now, Lea believed that.

Their search to finish the Planeswalker included a trip into Thalgard, Sunborn savages in a crumbling alley and a curious crystal that Lea now held in her bloody hands. It hummed rhythmically in her palms, a soft blue pulse of light within an intricate cage of thorium inlaid with gold.

A flash of blue light blinded her. She blinked and saw Yuslan and another man examining broken shards among some fallen rubble. Yuslan fumbled frantically through the rock.

_“No. No no no no!”_

_“Afraid so, that’s all that’s left of it.” The man, a mercenary probably, crossed his arms over his broad chest and scowled down at Yuslan, “Now, a matter of my pay?”_

_Yuslan went still, then he stood, very calm and quiet._

_“Yes…of course.”_

_The mercenary burst into green flame and melted in front them both. No scream, no cry of pain. Just bubbling skin, melting off a charring skeleton._

Another blue flash and the figures were gone. Lea stood, shaking and tightening her grip on the crystal. Though it must have been the very thing that showed her the vision.

_“Listen, I’ll explain as we go along. You’ll just have to trust me for now.”_

_Yes. Yes, please explain the fact that this is giving me more visions than I already get with me being this stupid Prophetess. _Her head throbbed. The vision must have provoked her Arcane Fever. She walked out of the small study that the crystal was in. Another flash of blue saw another version of herself walking through the library of the abbey.

Seeing herself was even stranger. Down to the chainmail she wore and the same, tired look in her eyes. The other Lea walked carefully, bow drawn and eyes scanning the room in front of her. Then she shrieked, gurgled and fell forward. It made the real (real?) Lea jump back in alarm. A Sunborn atop one of the rafters bellowed in triumph, his own bow in hand. The other Lea lay slumped in a pool of blood, twitching as the life drained from her. A roughshod arrow embedded in her neck.

A blue flash and the scene returned to its empty, dusty state.

Lea reflexively looked around. No one. Just the pile of Lost Ones she had to fight on her first run in. She ran her fingers around her neck. They trembled and were freezing compared to the warmth around her head. No arrow. No wound. Just…

She took a few deep breaths and kept going.


	11. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: "It's not always like this."  
Takes place directly after Day 3 - Ocean Waves

_When did it start?_

_When I was born? When mother was so pleased with my yellow eyes and my olive skin?_

_When Daddy took me hunting for the first time? When the elk he shot didn’t die and he passed the knife to me? When the masked men nailed them to crosses and burned them alive? And I hid like a coward. I hid and I heard their screams and mother’s defiant rage against the flames._

Lea told Jespar to use the teleportation scroll back to Ark. He didn’t say anything. Just looked between her and the scroll as if he was unsure to leave her behind.

_Did it start with the slave collar around my neck? When my hands were scrubbed raw or the masters tearing at my clothes?_

_Was it when the knife was put to my face? A promise of control because I told stories to the other girls in the room I shared with? That it was wrong? That I should be nothing more than a tool? Was it when I used that knife and failed to slit his throat? How did I even escape that night?_

Lea pushed the scroll into his hands and took the bloodied Pyrean Cube from him. The scroll was damp from the fog but still usable. His blue eyes were bloodshot and misty. Then he apologized, rather pathetically and as a mumble. They both stood from the pier and the last look he gave was mixed with longing and melancholy.

_What about when I met Sirius? Hovel to hovel, shack to shack, always moving, always starving, always laughing when the sun came up? What about when he died? And when we were both flung in the ocean where I choked on his blood and the sea and begged and pleaded for it all stop?_

Jespar disappeared into the misty air. Lea lingered, holding a different scroll that would take her back to Kurmai’s cave.

_Was it when I met you? Or rather when you “saved” me? Did the Veiled Woman know? Did she know that when she brought you back from a fiery death? Would you have rather let me die like the Apothecarius if you knew what would happen next?_

_Will there ever be another time where we could smile at some stupid joke you made? Or share a story in the Nomad? Or look at each other without seeing our ghosts?_

A familiar weightlessness turned into a tingle, followed by a rough shift in climate as harsh desert air assaulted her senses.

_When did it start, that it was to be determined I would never be strong enough to truly fight for my life?_


	12. Whale Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: "What if I don't see it?"

The stars seemed brighter in Silvergrove.

Lea meandered away from the inn and down to the beach. Each person she passed hailed her with a smile and wave. She returned them, if only to keep the illusion that she was enjoying her time here.

Everything seemed brighter in Silvergrove. The sands not so rough; the buildings not so shoddy and worn. An oasis bordered the quaint settlement and the wildlife paid little heed to the denizens that wandered Moonglow Meadow or the Old Mill. It was oddly safe. She couldn’t lower her hackles enough to really enjoy it. Maybe she never would.

The machine holding the starling sphere was still on the beach. She climbed on top of it, making sure the hatch was firmly shut and sat on top of it. The ocean was remarkably calm; waves lapped lazily by the machine, just enough for her toes to dip into the foam. Lea closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.

The calmest of tides and the coolness of night couldn’t smooth over her stress. Her eyebrows furrowed and she hunched, crossing her arms over her thighs. She sighed.

“Sister?”

Lea straightened immediately.

“Are you okay?”

She turned to the young boy. Rynéus shifted from foot to foot, looking both hopeful and afraid to approach her.

“Of course. It’s pretty late,” she shrugged, appearing nonchalant, “you should be in bed, little man.”

The boy hesitated, “Someone said there would be whales.”

“Whales?”

Rynéus brightened, nodding his head, “Yeah! I thought you came here to see them too!”

No. She wanted peace and quiet. But peace and quiet meant replaying the conversations with Jespar and Calia in her head.

_Everyone else knows better, so what’s the deal with you?_

She clamped it shut and forced a smile at him, “The whales, right. Yes, why don’t you come up here? You can see them better.”

He clambered on top of the machine and sat hip to hip beside her. They sat in relative silence, with Rynéus swinging his legs and Lea sitting as casually as possible. She crossed her legs and propped her head on her hand. As long as she kept looking at the waves, she didn’t need to focus on the itch creeping up her side.

_Friends, you just don’t get it, do you?_

_Maybe I should just leave. Go far away so I won’t hurt anyone every again._

_It’s better to be alone. Clean cut and you don’t drag anyone else down with you. It’s just better that way._

A gentle tug on her sleeve made her flinch. Rynéus must have noticed because he looked downcast and immediately dropped his hand.

“Sorry, was just deep in thought,” she looked down at him with a small smile. It faded when she saw the crestfallen look on his face.

“What if….what if I don’t see them?”

The stars dimmed just a little at his sadness. Lea put an arm around him and gestured with her other hand towards the watery expanse.

“Well, if they don’t come tonight. We can try tomorrow night. And the next and the next. We can’t control when they come you know. But if you keep trying, then you just might see them.”

“Really?” He drew out the word like a young, star-struck wonder that made her chest contract. Pleasant but painful.

“If you want.”

They looked out onto the ocean once more.

“Is that what you want?”

_No._

“Sure. I’ve never seen a whale before,” She squeezed his shoulder, “have you?”

“I always miss them. But with you here, maybe I can stay up long enough to see them!” He giggled then yawned.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She laughed with him. And they stayed, side by side until Rynéus fell asleep against her side.

The whales never came.


	13. Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: "I never knew it could be this way."

Jespar allowed himself the tentative warmth spreading through his body. From the cushion of the bed, the thick blankets cocooned around him, the press of a body beside his own. He couldn’t stop the grin spreading on his face. It had been a long, long time since he allowed himself to feel this way. Like a greeting from a fairy tale dream or a bard’s song come to life in his skin. It gave him affirmation that he could have this.

And that’s what it boiled down to, wasn’t it?

Letting the walls down, if for a moment, for someone else to take a hold of him. His arms, his skin, his lips, his mind. Not for sating physical desire that so often plagued humans to seek entertainment in a brothel. But something inexplicably more. It was a terrifying thing. More terrifying than if he had decided to jump off the rails of the Starship as the pressure on his neck and chest constricted to where he couldn’t breathe.

And then, just like that, when their lips met, he felt like he could devour her. Like a dam had been broken and replaced the pressure with a need that had long since been buried along with the sins. His sins.

Jespar thought of Adila and the grin faded.

He wanted to make it right, he really did. Coming back to Enderal, that was his first mission. Everything else had been secondary. The jobs he took, the one at the Sun Coast he vowed to be his last. But luck, it seemed, was a fickle thing. One moment, at his side like a brother in arms; the next, a jester, pointing and jeering at his failure. In the end, Adila found comfort in shadows and madness. One fueled by the High Ones. Even if he planted the seed, they reaped the reward from his sister. And that was something he could focus on in the fight.

Jespar shut his eyes, rubbed them with the heel of his hands and decided to focus on something else.

Lea slept peacefully at his side. No whimpers, no screams, no thrashing. He carefully sat up and leaned over her, catching her face haloed by honey locks and pillow down. Something swelled in his chest as he looked at her face, no longer creased in pain. It was the first time since they had met, that she wasn’t besieged by nightmares.

_Did I do that? By the name of the sun, did I do this to you_?

Something witty came to mind; how amazing sex could put someone at ease but it was more than that. At least, now that these thoughts had begun to trickle in again, that’s what he hoped.

_I helped you, for once._

He knew she would argue that statement. The Suncoast. The Temple. She would argue he led her there to start her own fate. And that he was also patient enough with her curiosity as she prodded him about the world around her. And that was just fine. He liked it. He liked the draw of her brows, the pouting lips when they got into it. He even liked it when she got under his skin. Not too deep, but enough to make him think, make him talk.

_Never knew it could be this way…I blame you for this, fair lady. You just had to be that insufferable._

Jespar was loathe to wake her but couldn’t help himself. He nuzzled her neck. Took in her earthy scent, the warmth of her skin, the shiver that it sent down the length of her body beside his own. He heard her deep inhale and a yellow eye blinked blearily up at him. She mumbled something, then her eye closed and she shimmied against him, wanting to be close. He kissed the crook of her neck, fulfilling that wish and savoring the little moan she made.

For now, he shoved away the other thoughts that pushed against this coziness that he was in. Nothing would last forever. There was no guarantee how long they would survive. If they survived until the end. And if they did, how much longer after? Muses for another time. They always came back.

_Seek bliss, avoid pain._

By those standards, perhaps he was doing right afterall.


	14. Our End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: "I can't come back."

It burns.

It doesn’t cripple. Not yet. But she can’t stop staring at the sky. Silken wisps bent in unnatural angles rising to a white flare.

Not like the others moaning and whimpering at her feet. The dead and the dying will have their last moments in an eternal fire. Unless, she snuffs them all out in a single stroke. After all, no one truly knows what happens when you become a higher being.

The Prophetess keeps her eyes on the skies. Only looking upon her friend in her final moments. She touches her marked cheek and makes a promise. One she can keep, even if it was skewed.

She wonders if her companion will make it. Then wipes the doubt for her mind. It smears into others. She tries. But they don’t fade away.

The Grandmaster’s sword is heavy. She isn’t accustomed to heavy weapons; hers since long gone in the deep ice where the Black Guardian formerly resigned. Panic momentarily sinks in. Her limbs shake and the blade falls with a dull clang on the stone.

Where would she go, after this? Certainly not these ‘Eternal Paths’. Where would _they_ go? Is a nothingness better? Would they wander ruins, forever burning, forever trapped?

Was that her choice to make? She looks at the Grandmaster, curled and crippled in front of the Beacon. Was it his?

But if there was any time to be strong. It has to be now. If there was a time to find out, it was now. If there was a time to finally take matters into her own hands…it is now.

She cries. And it burns.

The Prophetess doesn’t feel the explosion. In fact, it almost felt like falling asleep.


	15. Howling Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

It was simpler this way.

Her paws hit the earth with such speed and force that leaves and twigs scattered around her legs; bouncing uselessly and left forgotten in her wake. Her tongue lolled from her maw, ears pulled back and nose turned upward as cedar, fur, and the crisp snap of rain breezed through and around her. The fur was already matted and clumped from the heavy droplets but it did not slow her down.

This was what true freedom was like. Everything was sharper. She could see into the dark corners of the Heartland, hear the thunder rumbling ever closer until each crack of lightning and resounding boom made her howl in pain and liberation. Deer scattered in her wake but she paid them no mind. They smelled of fear and confusion. Ripe for hunting. She ignored them.

Hills made the trek a little harder. She pushed, grappled with fallen branches and loose rocks as she climbed. Other howls joined in chorus with hers. Other wolves saw her, ran and whimpered, preferring to rush headlong towards the roads than share the forest path. Lightning cracked and sparked against a tree. Heat momentarily singed the air around her and everything turned white.

She slipped then tumbled, rolling in the grass and mud until hitting the base of another tree. Pain shot up her back and down her legs that drew a snarl from her maw. Rain pelted her face and it finally sunk into her hide. Shivering, freezing, she willed herself up and shook the excess from her body, for what little good it would do to dry her. She needed to keep moving and not seize up from the storm.

The pain dulled to an ache and she thrashed about as she continued to higher ground. Higher and higher she climbed, coming to a small cliff that lay close the city. She leaped, raked her claws against rock and scrambled until she came to a clearing. The vestige of Malphas holding the Sun Temple came into view if but a fuzzy image from the rain. Twinkling lights marked the city but nothing more was seen or heard besides the howling storm ruining the countryside.

She drew in a deep breath, heaved herself onto her hind legs and howled. It was drowned by the storm’s fury but it didn’t matter. She howled again as lightning struck one of the towers. And again when thunder cracked just above her head. And again. And again. And again until her throat constricted and she could no longer see as water pooled on her nose and into her eyes.

She doesn’t remember stumbling back through the gates when the storms pass. Or how she got home. Just the reverberating howls she could not keep down, the scratches on her arms and legs, and the inevitable sickness one gets from staying too long in the cold.


	16. Gold and Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Listen. No, really listen."  
Warnings: Torture

When Lea was tossed her back into the filthy commune, the other girls skittered away like roaches to a torch. Blood dripped down onto the hard floor; no doubt adding to the other stains of dubious and terrible origin.

He’d spared her eye.

The Master’s son claimed they glimmered like gold. That such a pretty thing didn’t belong to a filthy, heathen savage. But he kept them. His little secret. Like her, not yet fully grown, tried to skirt the rules of the Creator’s Temple in the shadows. Tried to outwit fate as if it were nothing more than pieces on a board. Or like a rotten child hiding a treat after being scolded by their parent.

_She desperately wanted to scream. Instead, she whimpered and grit her teeth as the knife slowly carved a path down her cheek._

_“Listen.”_

_She jerked away. He had deft enough fingers and pulled the knife before it could veer. He grabbed her chin and rubbed a thumb over the tear on the unblemished cheek._

_“Shhh…Really listen now. And don’t make another sound.”_

_On instinct, she jerked away again. Revulsion pulsed violently through her body. Her head snapped back when he slapped the unmarked cheek. Careful, of course, not to ruin his handiwork on the other side._

_“Damn it! Hold still!”_

_She choked on a sob but complied as more tears welled in her eyes. Once more he resumed his kind pandering. The Son praised the beautiful shimmer the tears made in her eyes; caressed her shoulder and held her like a new lover as he continued his delicate task. The sound of her flesh parting beneath the sharp knife was almost imperceptible. Yet somehow, that sound was the only one in her ears. Like cloth slowly tearing in the hands of a small child._

_“When we’re done,” he said, voice barely a whisper, “you’ll tell me another story, won’t you? The others love it. Father hates it but I love them too, you know?”_

_The knife leaving her face for the last time left her slumped against the chair. His face swam in her blurry, red vision._

_The Boy’s_ _ voice was still gentle but his hands grabbed her roughly so they were nose to nose._

_“You will, won’t you?”_

She wanted to scream. But doing so would only bring him back. The other girls, each with their own marks and bandages would strangle her if she did too. Still, they crawled over and pulled her into their huddle on the far side away from the door. Just as she had with other girls that came back bloodied, they did their best to clean her up, wrap her face in the cleanest cloth they could find and wait for the next day.


	17. An Unexpected Asset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: "There is just something about them/her/him."

The Dust Pit hosted a wide array of bastards, monsters and poor fucks to warrant anything of true value.

Tharaêl knew this. Veterans tended to keep clear of the Rhalâta. New fighters usually didn’t make it far enough to be of any use. Still, he watched the fights and made sure Rasha paid her shadow tax to keep this bloodied hobby running. Still, he observed; hoping for that one that would survive long enough to meet his expectations.

A lithe figure caught his eye outside the caged arena. Their hands and face were pressed against the cage, body stiff as the one known as “Gur Hal’Nan” roasted his opponent with fiery magic from his mouth and a roar like a dragon. The figure carried a bow on their back and a hood covering most of their face. But he recognized this particular person. He’d seen them in the Undercity on several occasions. They mostly spent their time at the Pest House or here in the Pits but never signed up for a fight.

There was something…off about them. Not the usual brand of sick that molested or murdered, but off in aura and in their actions. Usually, it was every man for himself. That was made clear when two, skinny boys barely in their manhood tried to jump them on their way to the market. But instead of cutting them down, they talked smoothly and gently to dissuade. And in the end, they handed a bag of coin to the would be thieves to pay their debts to the Rhalâta.

Tharaêl learned two things from that exchange. One, that the figure was female. Two, that they were a foreigner. Her voice gave that away; feminine but with a lilt and accent that he might place as someone from Nehrim.

Such “generosity” wasn’t found down here in the caverns. Not without a price to be paid for later. Yet he was befuddled again when the woman helped Nathalia Poppyflower AND Kabar Thorwall. Kabar was known to be in deep debt to the Rhalâta and sold crucial alchemical supplies to the Pest House at high prices to make up his losses; much to Nathalia’s predicament as a runner for said house. Tharaêl stalked the foreigner as she conversed with both, shell even more pennies to Kabar once he confessed his sob story to her, then convinced him to sell at half price to Nathalia for affordability.

Who the hell was this wench?

Normally such things didn’t bother him. But it became even more intriguing to see the foreigner venture into the Tar Pits. Apparently to follow some dumb legend of a haunted miner. Though it was no secret Old Aisolon (naturally there were Pyrean ruins this deep in the earth) was crawling with undead, this little woman with a weird accent and “generous” spirit braved them anyway.

He followed, staying well enough back to watch as she fought her way deeper into the abandoned caverns and ruins. Her skill with a bow was to be commended. Each shot found its mark. The eyes of the undead or an oil lantern springing a fire trap; all were made before most could even touch her. Then, something peculiar happened.

A cluster of skeletons blocked the way into a wide cave. Instead of picking them off, the woman began to growl and _transform_. It seemed Raga Shadowclaw wasn’t the only one with this particular ability. Now, a large half-woman, half-wolf rampaged through the skeletons like a knife through hot butter.

A howl reverberated through the cavern and the she-beast sprinted further in. By the time Tharaêl caught up, she was struggling with an enormous spider. Its mandibles snapped furiously at the wolf’s snout, just out of reach as claws dug into its hairy legs. Tharaêl sprang into action.

He momentarily disappeared, then leapt on top of the spider. Both beasts shrieked in pain and surprise. He dug his twin swords into the spider’s back. Then again. And again until it collapsed. The she-wolf barely dodged the corpse falling on top of her.

Quiet settled into the cavern. The wolf’s ragged breathing filled the empty space but its stare bore into Tharaêl as he stepped off the spider’s corpse. Bright yellow eyes glimmered at him and it almost felt like she was smiling as her maw parted. He watched the transformation again until the lithe female was before him. The hood still covered her face and she was still hunched from the battle. But those eyes remained the same.

“Finally decided to come to me?” She said, the lilt in her voice still light.

Tharaêl definitely wasn’t sure what to make of her. But he made up his mind. She would have to do for what he had in mind.

“You and I need to have a chat.”


	18. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: "Secrets? I love secrets."

Esme thought Lea was joking when she mentioned the wolf bits.

Seeing her plow through the Arps in Old Ishmartep though, was just another drop in an otherwise full cup of her rampant emotions. Perhaps the other woman needed this. It was probably her way to vent. That didn’t stop the Aeterna bard from ducking behind some rubble and covering her ears until the shrieks and roars died down.

She knew she’d been a pain in the ass every step of the way to finding Tara; even if Lea didn’t express it. For a moment, she recognized the gravity of what she even asked, given to where it all lead. This would be it.

An uneasy quiet settled over the cavernous ruin. “Esme?”

The bard peeked above the rocks and her voice cracked as she answered, “Yeah?”

When Lea came into view, she wasn’t transformed. She wasn’t angry. Nor was she slumped with exhaustion and exasperation. The calm that settled over her face left her nearly expressionless. After intense fighting, she didn’t even seem breathless. The stillness before a great revelation.

It was terrifying. Leanara was terrifying.

“We’re almost there. Ready to unveil this secret?” The calm broke into a small smile.

“Secrets?” Esme squeaked. She coughed and cleared her throat. “I love secrets!”

Lea extended a hand. Esme hesitated but took it.

“Hey, uh…thanks. For this.”

“No problem.”

Esme snorted, “No problem huh? I—“

“We can talk shop after we find Tara, okay?” The small smile was still there but her eyes were hollow. She didn’t have hope. Or maybe she knew better that what they would find would lead to something worse.

Esme hoped with all her heart, that she was wrong.


	19. Night Climb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: "Yes, I admit it, you were right."

Jespar looked for Lea again after the Thalgard incident. But the first problem became painfully evident: she was not in her usual spots. Her house remained woefully empty except for the former Rhalaim. The quarters in the Scoula was still neat and untouched. Even the Nomad was void of her honey head. 

The second problem: Everyone refused to speak with him.

Calia had no desire to converse with him, claiming Lea could take care of herself. The sour Aeterna that stalked her home was even less inviting as he slammed the door in his face. At least not without a curt answer that the Prophetess hadn’t been home in several days.

_Fool. You utter fool._

Mounting another search for the Prophetess only deepened the pit in his gut. Luck seemed to pity him however. After another round of pacing and a drink in the Dancing Nomad, a man approached him while he asked around the tavern patrons.

“She was just here.” Meagor Ironford was his name. Jespar remembered him vaguely as someone Lea introduced many moons ago. But he nodded, enthused that the locksmith was ironically the key to finding Lea.

“Did she say anything about where she was going?”

The tanned locksmith shook his head, “Not really.” Jespar did his best not to show disappointment. It didn’t work. Ironford placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know this sounds strange but, have you checked some of the rooftops?”

“What?”

“Well, one day, she surprised my companion by jumping down from our roof. When she asked why she was up there, she said something like, ‘to enjoy the view’.” Ironford sighed, “Reminds me of my daughter, she always liked somewhere quiet and out of the way to think…”

_Sounds like her. But it beats looking somewhere outside of Ark._

The next few hours were spent climbing Ark’s walls and apartments. He started in the Foreign District, climbing the side walls of the Nomad. From there he cat-walked across the shingled roofs of neighboring buildings then up a wall that would vault him higher into the city. Lea would want somewhere with a clear view. The Eye of the Gods in the Sun Temple provided that, but neither could really stand religious types for too long.

The vestige of Malphas overshadowed his work. Jespar ended up in the Noble’s District, hopping over the Fat Leoran Inn and the impressive mansions that lined the streets. Finally, he came on top of the Bathhouse, scrabbling the wall behind it.

A revelation struck him as he climbed the rock face above the bathhouse. There was a field outside the Temple with a lone tower. He cursed and continued his climb. His limbs ached terribly but he pushed himself up and over a rail that opened to rows and rows of green. Jespar lay flat on his back, breathing heavy and starring into a now starry sky.

Blazes it should have been obvious. There had been a few times he caught Lea up here, usually admiring the sunrise. _Does this count as a bloody rooftop?_ He rubbed his eyes and covered them with his arm until he regained his breath.

He heard her first and he barked a laugh when she settled next to him.

“You realize, there is an easier way to get up here, right?”


	20. Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: "You could talk about it, you know?"

In the few moons Sirius came to know Leanara, he discovered she was a good dodger.

Not duck and dodge around street corners (although she was getting good at that too) but through words and workarounds. At first, he didn’t question the scrapes that usually came with their “lifestyle” but she fussed and patched him up more times than he could count in all his life. He wanted to return the favor. But then…if he questioned a scratch on her leg or a bruise on her shoulder, she’d shrug, say it was no big deal and move on.

He didn’t push because he thought she would leave, like all the others.

Then she didn’t. And worry gnawed more in his gut than hunger.

He asked more. “You’ll tell me what happened, right?” And her reply was always a smile and hum deep in her throat. He never got one.

Her front of selflessness proved to be guile in disguise. But he didn’t want to lose someone else. So he kept trying. Prodding.

But this time. _This_ time though. She couldn’t avoid it. Not when today was one of the bad days where the sun boiled them from above. Not when the dock workers refused him work. Not when he came back empty handed trying to scrounge market droppings for food. Not when she came crawling back to their shelter bloodied and simpering, trying to stifle her tears in the quiet.

“Blazes, who did this to you?!” He hissed. There was little beneath the scorched wood to use. A dirty tarp worked as a bedding but Sirius set to work stripping its edges and mopping the blood off of her arms and legs.

She winced but remained dutifully still.

His eyes hardened at the splotches that were turning purple. “If it was Raim again, I _told you_ to stay away—“

“It was stupid, okay?” She snapped. Anger made her eyes burn bright like molten gold. It made him stop and regard her. She never got angry. He steeled himself and pushed.

“What happened?” He asked.

The anger deflated and she hung her head, “I got caught by the Temple Guard.”

He choked and looked at her with wide eyes, “Doing bloody hells what? You’re lucky they didn’t—“

“I know. It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t—“ His own anger bubbled from his chest. “What did you do?”

She shrugged. The front now back in place as she stared past him. Dutifully waiting for him to finish cleaning her up. Normally, he would let it go. Like he always did. This time, he simmered, huffed and wrapped her arms and legs with a little more force than usual. She sat still, the only node of discomfort in the twitch of her eyes or slight upward turn of a snarl on her lips.

“You could talk about it, you know? Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”

He stalked to his corner barely hearing the response on the other end.

“Thank you.”


	21. Ceremonious Necessity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: "Change is annoyingly difficult."

The Keeper Robes chaffed. Lea bit back the irony with a clenched jaw. With her lithe frame and short build, she was surprised anything her size could be found on short notice.

Calia kneeled beside her, face set in righteous stone as the Grandmaster anointed them.

Lea fought the urge to adjust the collar scraping her neck. She didn’t need the religious zealots another reason to loathe her presence as their eyes bore into her back.

_Pathless. Heathen. Savage._ It was all the same. She learned to ignore those titles.

The words felt like syrup in her mouth and she repeated without listening.

_This is just a formality. I should feel honored._ It’s just another leash—even if it isn’t Ostian.

But she was good. She learned early in her youth to remain still and silent when it mattered. To make yourself feel invisible; though the last part was quite impossible when all eyes seared into her spine. Bolting would not be the best idea even when the urge to made her fingers curl against the stiff fabric on her legs.

Her joints cracked as they stood. The Grandmaster congratulated them. Calia bowed graciously. Lea’s gaze wandered to the stained glass above them. The rainbows they cast on the towering statue of Malphas before them. Pretty. Absurd.

“Prophetess.”

There it was. That title. It made her flinch. If the Grandmaster noticed, he said nothing. Just looked expectantly at her.

It would take some getting used to. Again, whether she wanted to or not.


	22. One In A Million

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: "We could have a chance."

She stayed back. Made the metal monstrosity focus on her until her companions found safety in the next building. Lea had a small, very small, minutely small, chance of getting out of this unscathed.

That small inkling. A chance, even if it was one in a million. It was all she ever needed. It was all she ever looked at. Many called her stupid. Too idealistic. So she closed her mouth, guarded that small part of her that defiantly stared back at this pit called Vyn.

_Lock it away. If the rest of you crumbles, you still have a part of yourself left to keep._

It was that small part of her mother that screamed obscenities when they put her to the cross. The angry, bitter woman that fate had dealt an unfair hand to.

_Here I am following in your footsteps. But the small part of me is much different from yours._

If her mother’s was like a raging fireball; then Lea’s was tree sap—over time hardened into amber.

Pain laced into her side and the screeching of the Metal Dragon faded into white noise.

She saw their bewildered faces. Their hands reaching out for her despite being several meters away. In weightlessness, it was almost like floating away. Floating away into the sky. At least until the impact of the hard, metal bridge connected with her back.

Blood and bile rose into her mouth and her vision swam into murky bronzes and blue. The dragon’s heavy downward draft pushed her into the metal, taking her breath away. They called her name but they felt even farther away.

Well. She was still, partly successful, right?


	23. Idealists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 23: "You can't give more than yourself."  
Takes place after Day 19 - Night Climb

What struck Jespar as odd, was the bottle of booze in her hand. Or rather that she had two of them and was extending one bottle to him. He sat up and took it from her. Lea sat next to him, crossing her legs and cradling her bottle in her lap. A gentle breeze cooled him off from his long climb.

“I was well aware there was an easier way,” he said, trying to salvage some dignity, then added, “Someone told me you were traipsing over the roofs.”

“And you decided to do the same thing to see me? I’m touched.”

He searched for sarcasm but there was none. Just a faraway look on her face. He took a peek at what she was drinking. Ox Pint Cider. Something sweet naturally. But the bottle was still mostly full. He looked at his and noticed the same bottle of Tirmatralean Brandy he’d given her many moons ago on the watchtower. This bottle too, was still quite full. He smiled at the memory at her attempt to flirt with him.

_It must be the wine. I’ll-uh…I’ll just stop. Sorry._

“You were right. About us idealists.” Lea’s voice cut into the memory, startling him.

“What do you mean?” He uncorked his bottle and took a deep swig. Thought he knew exactly what she meant.

“That in the end, what I do, will always be destroyed by stupid people,” She took a swallow of her bottle. Then another. Her face contorted to obvious discomfort but she took another, smaller drink. “I could have the best intentions but if all they see is the damage, it won’t matter.”

Her hands trembled around her bottle. It still looked full, despite the valiant attempts to play a drunkard. She probably hadn’t even made it half-way through the bottle of brandy with those swallows.

Despite the obvious revelation, it still felt like a gut punch. Jespar took his own swallows, downing a good portion of his bottle and feeling the burn cleanse him from throat to stomach.

“But you know what? I don’t care.”

He remained silent.

“Because as long as I do what I can, I’m happy.”

She looked far from happy. If anything, she was now glaring at her bottle as if it was the source of all of her woes. She took another, long drink but choked and coughed, hand flying to her throat. Jespar put his down and eased the bottle from her with one hand while rubbing her back with his other.

“I think you’ve made a valiant attempt, fair lady.” Humor came easy, even if she attempted to glare at him, “And your happiness is what should matter.”

“Because we’re all selfish,” she added with another cough.

“In a way, yes.”

“Are you backing out of your own words now?”

His first reaction was defense. She _knew_ this about him already. _Why do you have to be this way?_

“No.” He sighed and kept both bottles in his lap. They sat in silence and Lea resumed staring out into the starry horizon. “But neither is giving more than your limit.” He held up her bottle and swirled the contents. “Drinking this for example, seems more than you can handle.”

Her gaze hardened and she side-eyed him.

“I guess you’re right. Again.” The sarcasm that bled into her voice this time was something he could grasp. He shrugged at her.

“I can’t be right at everything, but I appreciate it.”

Despite it all, a small smile quirked at her lips.

“You’re an asshole Jespar Dal’Varek, you know that?”

“You’re not the first to tell me that.”


	24. Rendezvous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: "Patience...isn't something I'm known for."  
Was anyone else aware of a bug where Esme's pants were missing?

Disappointment was an ugly feeling. Lea could feel it creeping up her collar as she searched the Nomad for her new friend, Esme. After collecting the manifesto from The Morning Dew, the Aeterna offered to meet up with her in Ark to find the sponsor that offered to pay for her companion’s, another Aeterna named Tara, travels. Lea in turn offered they meet in the Dancing Nomad. It was just as well too, there was never a bad excuse to see her favorite mercenary at the same time.

At least, not until the innkeeper shoved a letter at her. She read it, read it again, then sighed.

Jespar peeked at her from his usual spot, “Problem?”

She shook her head and waved the letter at him, “Nothing I can’t handle. I think. But I should get going. I’ll see you later treasure hunter.”

Despite the obvious exasperation of being left behind and the sloppy pick-up to meet at a new location, Lea had to laugh. Esme struck her as someone that was high strung and always in motion. The letter left behind with sprawling scrawl explaining that the Aeterna had gone ahead to look for this “Dal’Mercer”, was proof enough.

__

She found her quarry by the Bathhouse in the Noble’s District. Esme had changed out of her furs into something more light…and revealing. She wasn’t sure if the other woman was wearing trousers but the corset and shirt hung low enough that it didn’t really matter. As long as she didn’t bend over.

She was staring. Maybe a little too obviously as Esme turned and cleared her throat.

“Oh, there you are!”

“What? Oh, right.” She tried to put on a serious face while not having her eyes wander at the ridiculous outfit, “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Sorry…” Esme’s shoulders sagged. Then she straightened and pointed to a manor nestled comfortably across from the bathhouse, “But the good news is that I found where Dal’Mercer lives! Maybe he and Tara will still be home?”

Lea raised an eyebrow, following her gesture, “That’s great. And hey—“

“Yes?”

“Wait for me next time okay?” She made sure to smile. It was such a silly thing but it seems she found a rival in her own restlessness.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah. Patience isn’t something I’m known for,” Esme returned the smile, “Tara got quite cross with me a few times for things like that.” At the mention of her companion’s name, the smile faded and unease settled in her brow.

Lea put a hand on her shoulder, doing her best to keep it on the strap and not on her bare shoulder. “Alright, you lead. The sooner the better.”


	25. Juniper Berries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: "I could really eat something."

“I heard you like these?”

Calia passed a cloth wrapped bundle to Lea. Both women sat in the Chronicum after offering to help the Archmagister look for certain texts regarding Pyrean history and literature.

_“I tried to ask Peghast but she, and I quote, ‘doesn’t focus on that stupid shit’. Really, we need to cover _all_ of our bases if we are going to find out how this Beacon works…”_

Even though they were an arm’s length away, Lea could smell them from her seat. A light waft of pine and citrus. Already, her mouth began to water.

“Whoever told you, deserves some compensation,” she held her hands out for the bundle.

Calia’s eyebrows rose but nonetheless put the bundle in the other woman’s hands. She watched the Prophetess struggle with the ties, almost drop the bundle and its contents, and place them on the table, revealing round indigo berries. She plucked them one by one and popped them in her mouth. Her face contorted to pleasure and for a moment, Lea forgot about the book about Pyrean techniques on agriculture.

“Well, the Order already pays him to help us. But I’ll pass it on.”

Lea paused, another berry half-way to her mouth. She cocked her head and a slow smile spread on her face.

“Really? Did he give them to you to give to me?”

Calia shrugged and pointedly flipped the page of her book, “Actually, I overheard you two talking yesterday.”

_“If you’re going to get food, can you bring me back some berries? The juniper ones. Yes those ones. I don’t care, I doubt they would mix the two up. If it were really poisonous, do you think they would sell them with the other fruits?”_

“Oh.” Lea giggled and continued eating. “Well, thank you anyway.” She offered a couple to Calia, who took them with a slight roll of her eyes and upward turn of her lips.


	26. The Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 26: "You keep me warm."

The home of the Prophetess was known as “The Den” for a reason. Much of the home was filled to the brim with rugs, rustic furniture and drapes to rival a shaman’s hut. It was also well lived in, given that it saw, at most, five residents at a time, each with their own corner and staked claims of the house.

Two Aeternas took turns pilfering the kitchens. And while one retreated towards the fireplace and chairs, the other stalked to the topmost floors, making friends with spiders, boxes and staying comfortable (for the most part) out of sight. Calia usually took to the small garden behind the house to meditate or kept to her own room if she wasn’t in the temple’s Scoula.

As such, the house had rooms for each of them, even if some went unused. Jespar’s included, now more than ever. Though he preferred the Nomad, more and more time was spent here. Like a mismatched family that often feuded but would dissipate almost immediately after food and conversation. It was surreal. “Family” wasn’t a thing he could be a part of anymore after watching his family be crucified. _Or was it later than that?_

Still, his room had seen one too many instances of a drunkard and the Prophetess’ room was more inviting. Said room was probably the coziest Jespar ever had the pleasure of staying in. Rugs littered the floor in haphazard angles, shelves lined with books and jars of herbs, heavy drapes covered the windows and around the four post bed. The bed itself was a strewn mess of pillows and throws, looking more akin to a nest than a normal post to lay your head.

Comfort was obviously chief here. Sinking into the nest felt good after a long day or after a good romp that rearranged the alignment of the pillows.

The problem, however, was getting out of it.

This was Jespar’s current predicament; not only sunk deeply beneath the throws and blankets but unable to get a firm grasp to get out without waking his bedmate. It was as if some of the throws’ fabric were intentionally soft and slippery, keeping you trapped here like quick sand. The more you moved, the deeper you sank. He made a frustrated noise and glanced at the Prophetess. She slept deeply, a more common occurrence thank the sun, and was nestled comfortably on top of most of the throws.

_How the hell did that happen?_ How was she on top, framed comfortably with a pillow around her arms and only one of the damn things on her?

Heat was another problem. He was already sweating beneath the throws and the exertion trying to even get out was adding to that. Another heave had his top half free from the suffocating warmth. He took in a deep breath. Then two. Then three. Once more he pushed and curled himself over the end of the bed to crawl out of it.

A hand fumbled for him. He could hear the gentle pat of fabric before fingers curled around one his hips. Surprisingly cold. He couldn’t suppress the sudden shiver from the touch.

“Stay.” Lea mumbled from her side of the bed. He turned to her and saw her eyes half-lidded and misty with sleep.

“I need to piss, I’ll be right back.” Not a total lie. He needed to do that too. But his gut clenched and for a breath, he waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.

“Oh.” She let go of him, fingers gliding across his skin. She mumbled a ‘sorry’ and curled up some more beneath the covers.

Jespar relaxed and clambered the rest of the way out. Internally, he kicked himself. What was he even expecting? Well, he knew what. And when it didn’t come, a pleasant tingle replaced the tightness.

When he came back, it seemed Lea had sunk even further in to her quick sand of blankets. Nothing but honey locks stuck out by the pillows. He chuckled quietly and carefully crawled on top of the bed. He found the mound that was the Prophetess and extracted one throw to put on himself. Sensing him, she shimmied closer and her hand once more found him, this time splaying on his chest. Still cold. He grabbed her hand and gently kissed her fingers.

_All this and your hands are still cold?_

As if to emphasize, somehow, a foot found his leg and he flinched. Ice cold. He rolled his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the nest a little more.

Surprisingly, he didn’t mind one bit.


	27. The Scorpion Imprisoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 27: "Can you wait for me?"

Dijaam Onêlys had been in her fair share of predicaments. Living through the sacking of Uunil-Yâr; the war after the death of the Lightborn. She thought she’d seen the worst humanity had to offer.

That was, until coming to Enderal.

The locals made it known they hated her lying, cheating ways, tan skin and accent. A madness was spreading through the common folk like wildfire. And undead apparently roamed anywhere that wasn’t the main city or its neighboring towns like it was a roaring party of the afterlife.

But she didn’t care about that. She’d come for one purpose: retrieving the Jade Scarabeaus. The symbol of her home country Kilé.

_Saras’Joduule_. Being chained in Ark’s dungeons was ten steps backwards in the grand scheme of things. But she had turned herself in after the Golden Sickle’s leader decided to make himself scarce, scaring the guard and immediately pointing the blame. It was the truth, though, that she had no idea what happened to him. She didn’t care for the man and thought he was a giant stick in the mud with that stick shoved way up his ass. But she did care enough not to do anything to him. He was responsible for the Scarabeaus getting stolen, though. And it seemed her interrogators only cared about where she came from, if the beatings had been any indication.

_Saras’Joduule! _She turned herself in to prevent more bloodshed! What happened in the Golden Sickle’s trading post—it wasn’t meant to happen like that!

It really wasn’t.

Her thoughts turned to her new partner. A non-local. Someone from Nehrim of all places. Dijaam genuinely hoped that they were okay. After shoving the other woman back down into the crypts so as not to get caught as well, there was a familiar coil of worry in her gut. Not for herself but for the other woman. It was such an odd thing that she laughed out loud.

The guard to her cell yelled at her to shut up. She called them coinless shits.

When no response came, she felt momentary satisfaction. It disappeared when she heard hurried footsteps and the jingle of a key to her door. She steeled herself for another round of interrogation, only to be met with someone she wasn’t expecting. Granted, a rescue was a long shot but Dijaam wouldn’t turn down any chance she had to get out of here. With the Scarabeaus of course.

Bright yellow eyes widened with shock and within a few minutes, Dijaam was out of her shackles. _I’ll be damned._ Right now, this woman, this tiny woman, was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Even if she was covered in grime, blood and smelled like death.

Maybe things would start to turn her way again.


	28. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 28: "Enough! I heard enough."

There was something about the way he looked at her that set her teeth on edge.

Disappointment was an ugly feeling. Especially on the receiving end of it. It always made her feel worse, like her stomach fell out of her and she would bow her head in shame.

But not this time. Not since the siege. Not since Taranor Coarek. But she said nothing, just seethed in her seat as he spoke.

Before, she did look at him in awe. The great Grandmaster of the Holy Order. Even in Ostian the protector’s and military arm of the Lightborn were whispered with reverence, even hope. Of course, out of earshot of the Creator’s Temple priests and enforcers.

Over time though, she saw him for what he was and the mask he wore. It was cracking, falling away in pieces before humanity’s impending doom. And what was beneath was ugly to her. Like Daddy when he wasn’t in a mood. Promises of good things and rare affection that somehow, she craved. And she hated herself for it and did so even more when that mask fell away to a monster that would beat her senseless at the littlest offense.

The seething felt like boiling water in her gut. Her hands grasped her trousers in tight fists beneath the table and she stared at the random assortment of artifacts, junks, and books on the long table.

With recent events, she barely noted her resignation and exhaustion twisting into rage. Rage that she kept bottle far, far away in the darkest corners of her mind. Something that, when she hunted alone outside of Ark was even more prevalent in mutilated corpses of animals and already rotting flesh of the Lost Ones.

She told herself it was a “safe” outlet.

But she’d heard the frightened whispers in the streets after the siege. That a monster lurked within the walls. That something else had killed the Nehrimese. That the great “Holy Order” wouldn’t go as far as these Pathless to tear their enemies to literal shreds, staining the streets in viscera.

_‘What if it comes for _us_ next?’_

She was helping them. Even if they didn’t make that connection that it was the Prophetess.

_Not yet._

But the Grandmaster did.

She chanced a glance at Aranthael. He had turned to the Truchessa; discussing technicalities that didn’t require her focus to overhear. But as he finished, he dismissed the rest except—

“Prophetess. There is something you and I need to discuss.”

She stiffened and stood. Carefully. Slowly. He waited until the last of them left, Jespar and Calia were noticeably absent and the lack of their usual presence made her feel even more alone.

“During the siege…”

She kept her face neutral. She could manage that much, even if her hands scrunched the hem of her shirt.

“Does anyone else know of your…ability?” He phrased it carefully, hands behind his back and mimicking her expression.

“Firespark did.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“I mentioned it offhand to Sha’Rim.”

He regarded her, eyes even more narrowed and lips turned down in a frown. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if Lishari would have considered Lycanthropy as something “kick ass”.

“Anyone else?”

She said nothing and simply stared back.

“It is safe to assume the mercenary and Keeper Sakaresh know as well?”

Now it was her turn to narrow her eyes. It did not go unnoticed as Aranthael nodded his head.

“As I expected. And your reason for not informing me of this particular ability?”

“I didn’t think it was any of your business,” she snapped. No point in hiding behind a mask. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if it would create another barrier against him, and glared.

“It is when citizens are panicking for a potential threat in the city.”

“Would you have preferred to die in your precious streets? I don’t regret what I did.”

“Your ferocity was a useful tool but it comes with consequences. Consequences that only add to the fragile balance we are trying to keep.”

“And yet you refused to step in for Sargent Harlajan when clearly the great Grandmaster could have pulled them back.”

His posture stiffened noticeably, “We have been over this.”

“Right. It is such a _great honor_, to die a gruesome death when they clearly begged for your help!”

“As it was for the Nehrimese soldiers that died at your hand.”

He was goading her. An itch spread up her arms. She clamped her hands around her arms and held herself tighter. She needed to get out of here. Even the high walls and clutter were becoming suffocating. And she couldn’t stand to look at his face. She wanted to tear it off.

“Forget it. I’m leaving.”

“We are not done.”

She ignored him and turned to leave. She was halfway across the room when he spoke again.

“If you are going to be a threat, then I will have no choice but to detain you.”

That made her stop. She tilted her head back at him.

“You won’t.”

“I will do what I must. If you are going to be a hindrance, then I will treat you as such until you are needed. We cannot afford any more risks.” As if to make his point, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

“You might as well kill me just as you did Bartarr.” She was giving herself away but she didn’t care.

He said nothing. But she saw the flicker of surprise, then anger cross his face before it hardened once more.

“Hollow words, and that will not be necessary. You are too deep in this with the rest of us.”

“But keeping me on a leash like a literal mongrel, will be necessary?” She snarled. Nails dug into her tunic and she focused on the aching pain that came with it.

“That will be your choice.”

_Because I’m still useful, you won’t throw me away just yet._ And the truth was just as painful. He was right.

She wanted to kill him. It was plain as day on her face, eyes narrowed, lips curled showing teeth.

_Let it go._

_I won’t._

But she did. Like air deflating from a balloon, she dropped her arms and turned away from him. Aranthael said nothing else as she left but she could feel his eyes bore into her back. Scalding her like a brand to cattle.


	29. Heirloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 29: "I'm doing this for you."

“Why isn’t Shae with us?”

Though Leanara loathed her little sister and vice versa, her mother remained the constant center to subdue the two girls in any fight. Normally, the three tended the garden outside or fed the livestock or groomed the two pack mules. Thing that needed tending while Daddy was hunting or in the city. And things that were always fought over for who gets to do what. Shaleara, or Shae, or “sissy” as another boy taunted her once, took Daddy’s temper. Always stamping her feet if she didn’t get to have the brush for the mules or basket for the garden. Sometimes she hit Lea even though she was the older sister.

“She wouldn’t understand, pup.”

Momma, a wise Momma with the cunning of a fox and stern gaze of a bear, was always in the center. To smother their anger, to make peace if for a moment, to place her hands on their heads and scold them with a rumbling voice.

But all of that had been done. Momma woke her, silent like a ghost and spirited her away from Shae. Momma was fast. Before Lea could rub the sleep from her eyes, she was already wrapped in a blanket and cool, night air brushed her hair and feet.

“Understand what?”

Now they walked further into the woods. Further than ever before. Further than when Daddy took her hunting a moon turn’s ago. Further then when they would pick herbs on the edge and Momma would say what they all meant because that’s what “the Steppes” taught her. 

“Momma, understand what?”

Lea should be scared. But Momma, though strange her behavior, would never hurt her. Never do something without reason. So she wasn’t scared and she felt proud for that. Finally, they stopped at a small clearing. A log lay on its side, overgrown with moss and mushrooms. Momma sat on it and beckoned Lea to do the same.

“That we are fundamentally different from her and from your father.”

Lea clambered onto the log. Wind whistled ominously through the trees and she curled closer into Momma’s side.

She chuckled, “Do not be afraid pup. The spirits watch over us, no one will harm us here.”

She peaked up at Momma. Gold eyes glittered in the dark, kind and warm. And yet, something else. Something sad. Something that, Lea could tell, took great strength from her.

“Spirits? Not the Creator?”

Momma scowled, though it wasn’t directed at her. “The Creator is a liar, pup. A liar and a cruel master. No. Where I come from, your ancestors trusted the spirits within the trees, the ground, the animals. They were sources of wisdom and warning.”

She ran her hand over the mossy bark of the log and tore a small tuft. She rolled it in her hand then passed it to Lea who took the moss with greater curiosity. It was soft, moist and it tickled her palm.

They say spirits lived in fallen trees. Instead of mourning the loss, they made the skeletons useful for travelers and hunters. The center hollowed out as shelter for the rain or sand. Mushrooms that provided food. If the spirit was particularly benevolent, then moss would grow; an especially rare occurrence in the harsh, rocky Steppes and a sign of good fortune.

“I have something to give you. Something very important.”

Momma undid the clasp on the back of her neck and pulled forth a pendant. It was always hidden in her dress, only the string between strands of light brown hair showing anything was around her neck at all. Lea never saw what it was. Even when she asked and pleaded or tried to sneak around when Momma bent low enough. But Momma was tricky. As if she knew what Lea was trying to do, she would always put a finger to her lips. _One day._

That day was today. The pendant was small, no longer than her first finger, and was white with swirling marks and small holes in it. _Bone. It was made of bone._

“This is the only item I took with me from my home. It was made for me by someone very important.” Momma looked away, eyes glazed over as if lost in that memory. A faint, sad smile touched her lips and she shook her head. “Though it was not meant to be, it has always been my most prized treasure. And now, I give it you.” She offered the pendant to Lea, who took it with wide-eyed reverence. Unable to express her wonder or even her question, Momma continued,

“It has always brought me luck. When I came here. When I had you.” She smiled down at Lea. All teeth and crow’s feet around her gold eyes.

Lea almost missed the gap. _But not Daddy and not Shae. Why?_

Then, Momma closed her hands around Lea’s and the pendant. She squeezed hard, making the bone bite into her palms. She whimpered but Momma held.

“Keep it safe. Keep it close. This is my gift to you. One day, you will understand.”

Pain flared in her hand. Lea bit her lip and fought the tears. She wanted to understand now. Why did Momma look so sad and so scared? Blood dripped onto the log and finally, Momma let go.

Slowly, they made their way back home. Momma was herself again and as instructed, Lea tucked the pendant away in her shirt. She must be careful not to show Shae or Daddy.

When they returned, the first rays of the sun broke the deep blue of the sky. And a familiar silhouette approached them from the road.


	30. Fire In Her Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 30: "I'm with you, you know that."

Jespar never thought he would see another city burn before his eyes. Ark may not have a fond place in his heart but the sights and sounds; of fire licking the sky, the screams of the murdered filling the air, they were all the same.

After the Grandmaster’s speech, Lea disappeared after him. The two most important people right now that have any chances to beat this. And here he was. A part of the grand scheme. Trapped and cornered like pigs to the slaughter. The whole thing was surreal. More nightmare than pleasant dreams.

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the burning rooftops but a smaller hand found his and squeezed, hard.

“Hello, fair lady.” The warmth and feel of her hand was comforting.

Lea smiled back. All mouth and no eyes. There was no hiding the fear in those beautiful eyes. They reflected the red and orange burning below, mimicking molten gold under a furnace.

“So…what did the Grandmaster say?”

She explained the tunnels running through the Undercity. A stopgap if the destitute ever decided to revolt against the Holy Order again. Poison gas; not even a physical retaliation. He nearly laughed at the irony. But one way down to the City of a Thousand Floods was better than none. Still. One thing bugged him. Bugged him incessantly really, since the attack started and fervent after Aranthael’s speech.

“If things work out the way the Grandmaster thinks…will you really give yourself up to Coarek? As he said he would?”

Her eyebrows rose in mild surprise then furrowed as she looked over the city. She still clutched his hand; her nails digging into him.

Lea would always be an idealist. That determined scowl that painted her face when in combat. Or the shimmer of hope in her eyes. It was sometimes overwhelming. Just as it was now as she took her time to answer. Screams and shouts of bloodlust as their backdrop.

Finally she said, “I understand the notion,” then turned to him, “but I don’t see the point of throwing away our lives like that.” She brought their hands up, uncurled her fingers to reveal the marks she left on his hands. She kissed them. “Especially with all that’s happened between us.”

Something in him relaxed. Though obviously not a good time to relax, he felt…relieved. He pulled her into an embrace and stroked her back.

_Yes. Yes it would be a waste._

He kissed the top of her head and let go.

“I’m with you. Let’s go see Mysir Cynical and the Grandmaster, shall we?”


	31. Spiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 31: "Scared, me?"

What set this scream apart from all the others, was that the Prophetess was wide awake and that it was a more blood curling scream than the usual whimpers and cries. It was the kind of scream that set all of ends of his hair up in alarm.

Lea had gone to look into one of the abandoned fortresses on the Penny Road, with no real reason to search but for the heck of it. She offered to Jespar who politely declined_ this time_. 

An hour though and still no sign of her return. He’d smoked a pipe, read from the book he carried, paced by the entrance watching for any unsavory passerbys. This was normal. Despite nothing about it being remotely normal. The last time he went into a place like this with her, he limped out with more bruises than a rotten apple. Eventually, though, he figured he should go in after. That’s when the screaming started.

He froze, panic seizing his muscles before he managed to jerk into motion. He ran forward, daggers in his hands towards the gates. He didn’t need to go far as she came out of the keep to meet him halfway. Her weapon was in hand but it swung wildly as if she was swatting some invisible foe and had forgotten the arrows needed for it to be effective.

“Wha—“ She collided into him, arms wrapping around his middle in a tight embrace as she wailed into his chest.

“What. What the fuck?!” He looked up and behind her, trying to find the culprit. Although his daggers were out, she was pushing on him too much for him to even get even footing. When he finally noted that whatever had been attacking her was not following, he grasped her arms and tried to pry her off.

“Whatever it was, they’re gone! Let go!”

It took some more grappling before Lea finally let go. She looked up at the fortress with wide eyes. Then rubbed them furiously and turned away from him.

“Seriously. What the absolute fuck was that about?” He sheathed his daggers, perhaps a little too forcefully as the belt the sheathes were on pinched his waist.

She sniffed and mumbled.

“What?”

“Spiders! There were spiders!” She turned to him, still furiously rubbing her face. Clearly she had been that terrified to cry.

_Blazes I need a drink. Or five._

“Spiders?” He asked, trying not to sound too angry. Part of it was sort of adorable. At least now that she was out of harm’s way.

“Why didn’t you shoot them?”

She looked away, “I ran out of arrows.”

“Okay…Why didn’t you, you know, transform instead?” The Lycanthropy was still a new thing to get used to. Watching her limbs contort and stretch, her growls and the black mist that surrounded her until a huge half-wolf, half-human beast attacked was frightening. Even if he wasn’t on the receiving end.

She sniffed, her face turning even more red in embarrassment, “I did! But I…I transformed back before I could kill all of them. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t—“

_Oh my._

It was such a backwards turn from fearsome beast to sniffling girl. Such a brave spirit taken down by spiders. Granted there were large cave and forest spiders in the Heartland that take many unawares. Spindly limbs creeping through tall crass or within deep crevasses gave, even him, the shivers. To break down in such a manner, though, was a little funny. And cute. And exhausting to add to the list of things regarding the new Prophetess.

Jespar sighed and grabbed her arm, “Let’s go. I think we’re done for one day.”

She didn’t object and followed obediently beside him, still sniffling and mumbling.

“Stupid spiders. Too many eyes. Too many legs. They can all burn in hell..”

He stifled a laugh. Probably best not too given the fragile state she was in. Down to the trembling arm still in his hand and the way she tried to look everywhere but his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! Hope everyone enjoys and Happy Halloween~!


End file.
